


Volatile Times

by MercurialTenacity



Series: It's A Cruel World for Small Things [9]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Captivity, Crying, Dark Original Percival Graves, Dehumanization, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Painful Sex, Past Torture, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Instinctually Credence curls in on himself, cowering into the cushions of the armchair as though it were any protection at all, breath lodging painfully in his chest as Grindelwald turns to advance.  He’s pinned by that gaze, knowing the pain it will bring, and he has to be good for it, he wants to be good but his mind freezes in the face of such sheer fury.“Mine,” Graves growls, and before Credence can flinch Graves hauls him up by the scruff of the neck, shoving him towards the bedroom.In the glance Credence catches from the corner of his vision, Grindelwald lookslivid.





	Volatile Times

**Author's Note:**

> I finally dusted off and finished my draft of this installment, so here it is! Hope you enjoy, and if you're new to this series, take the tags seriously

“You utter lunatic!”

Credence bolts upright when the front door slams, heart pounding, reeling with disorientation and fear.  It takes him a moment to register more than the tone of the raised voices, and he recoils from the atmosphere that floods the room, tension crackling and fury brewing, making the air heavy, threatening violence at any moment.

“Do you realize how much damage you could have done?”

“What happened to your ambition?”  Grindelwald’s voice is a low hiss, fury seething beneath his words.  “If you had your way we’d be in the shadows for another decade.”

“And ruling for a century,” Graves snaps.  “At this rate we'll be lucky to survive another three months.”

“Enough of this,” Grindelwald says, and as he steps through the living room doorway his burning gaze falls on Credence.

Instinctually Credence curls in on himself, cowering into the cushions of the armchair as though it were any protection at all, breath lodging painfully in his chest as Grindelwald turns to advance.  He’s pinned by that gaze, knowing the pain it will bring, and he has to be good for it, he  _ wants _ to be good but his mind freezes in the face of such sheer fury.

“Mine,” Graves growls, and before Credence can flinch Graves hauls him up by the scruff of the neck, shoving him towards the bedroom.

In the glance Credence catches from the corner of his vision, Grindelwald looks  _ livid. _

Graves has them through the bedroom door in an instant, slamming it viciously as Credence throws himself onto the bed, struggling out of his loose pants so quickly that he hears a seam tear.

Graves is on him half a breath later.

Credence spreads his thighs, frantic to give Graves his body.  Graves doesn’t get angry often, not like this, but when he does - instinct for self preservation takes over as Credence arches his back, complying in every way he knows how.  He reaches back to spread himself open, but Graves slaps his hands away and grips his hips with bruising strength, yanking him backwards until their hips are flush.

Credence feels like a ragdoll in that grip, crushed in an inescapable iron hold.  And he’s glad for it, glad that it helps him be good, because otherwise he would surely do something wrong and make Graves even angrier.

Graves ruts against him in one, two brutal thrusts before the head of his dick slips inside without warning.

Credence chokes.  He’s not using enough lube.

Uncaring, Graves drives himself home inside Credence’s body.  The small amount of slick he must have wordlessly conjured is enough to ease some of the friction, but the stretch  _ burns.   _ Credence hadn’t had a chance to prepare, no time to open himself up.  He knows how to take it, but that's not enough to spare him the pain of Graves’ violent entry into his body.

Graves fucks him raw, pounding into him from behind as he takes his wrath out on Credence’s body, channeling whatever it was Grindelwald did to inspire such rage.  It hurts, it hurts, it  _ hurts, _ and Credence’s tears wet the sheets as his body is jerked back and forth.  It’s enough to shake him into a daze, thoughts blank and meaningless as the world slips farther and farther away.  He knows he’s crying, he knows it hurts, but he’s almost calm; he doesn’t have to be there for any of it, he’ll just come back later when Graves is done.  His mind goes quiet, and he watches it all happen.

 

“Fucking reckless son of a bitch,” Graves is saying, and Credence cracks his eyes open blearily.  His hole throbs as warm come leaks down between his legs, and there’s wetness under his cheek where drool soaked into Graves’ sheets.  His nipples ache too, and it takes him a moment to realize that Graves is pulling and twisting the piercings to emphasize his heated words.  Credence shifts to give him better access, making it easier for him to reach around from where he lays behind Credence on the bed. “He thinks if he gathers enough fanatics to our cause, hundreds of years of wizarding culture will just fall away.  The fucking arrogance.”

Credence yelps at a particularly vicious twist and Graves looks down at him, seeming to recognize for the first time since storming through the front door that Credence truly exists.  His fingers gentle, if only slightly.

“You don’t know how infuriating it is,” Graves continues, though the violent agitation is bleeding from his voice.  He sounds restless, frustrated, but no longer dangerously angry. “Thinks he’s already king.”

Credence bites his lip, indecision and fear curling in his belly.  He’s never seen Grindelwald and Graves so angry at each other. They’ve argued in front of him, yes, but never with such heat and venom, as though they were only a moment away from being at each other’s throats.  He doesn’t know what would happen to him if they came to blows. He has nothing else but them.

He wants to make Graves feel better, to give him an outlet for his stress, but he doesn’t know how.  Clearly fucking him into the mattress didn’t do more than take the edge off, and being fucked is what Credence is best at.  There are other ways Graves can use his body though, and tugging at his nipples is only the start. Maybe Graves is too upset to realize it, or maybe he’s waiting for Credence to ask for it.  It doesn’t matter, he just needs Graves to feel better.

“Do you - would you, would you like to hurt me, sir?”

Graves pauses.  “What?” He seems genuinely surprised that Credence spoke.

“I’m sorry sir, I just -”  Credence swallows, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all, maybe Graves will be even more angry - but it’s too late now, he just has to offer himself and hope.  “You could cut me sir, or carve things into me. I could scream or - or I could stay quiet, anything you want. Would you like to beat me? Or you could choke me, hold me down and s-squeeze my throat until I pass out.  Mr Grindelwald says it - he says it’s very satisfying, sir.” Credence risks glancing up, trying to get a hint of whether he said the right thing.

He freezes.  The lines of Graves’ face are sharp, severe, and Credence flinches back instinctively, away from whatever emotion is building behind his eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he babbles, “please sir I’m sorry, it makes Mr Grindelwald happy sometimes and I - I wanted to make you happy -”

“Quiet, boy,” Graves says.  His tone is low and firm with something hot running underneath it, a current of possessiveness and lust and  _ feeling _ which scares Credence in its unfamiliarity.  He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know if he’s made it worse or better, he will just have to be thankful for whatever pain Graves decides to give him.

Graves takes him by the shoulders, pins him to the bed, and kisses him deeply.

Credence gasps into his mouth, lips parting as Graves’ tongue slips between them, warm and wet as he licks his palette, suckles on his tongue, draws back to bite his lower lip - gently, so gently - before diving in again.

Credence stares up at him, eyes wide and breath shaky.  Mr Graves has never kissed him before.

Not during all those long weeks meeting in alleys when hope still fluttered its faint light in Credence’s chest, when he would have done anything for Graves just to be called  _ my boy. _  He had ached for Graves’ touch, for a hand on his jaw, breath on his cheek, but there had never been lips against his own.

Not after the world fell apart, after Graves and Grindelwald owned him and his dreams of being touched became nightmares.  Grindelwald kissed him, oh yes, Grindelwald taught him how to kiss like a slut, to kiss until he was dizzy and his lips swollen red, and vicious lust gleamed in Grindelwald’s eyes.

Graves fucked him, Graves beat him, but never once had he found Credence to be a creature worth kissing.

Until now.

It isn’t until Graves licks along his jaw, sucking the faint beginnings of bruises into his skin that Credence realizes he should have kissed back.  He should have - he should have made it good for Graves, given him pleasure, he knows how to kiss, but instead he was selfish and made Graves do all the work and he’s probably so angry -

“I’m sorry, I - sir, I’m so sorry -”

“Be quiet,” Graves says again, and enforces his words with another firm kiss.

At least this time Credence manages to reciprocate, flicking his tongue against Graves’ and earnestly seeking permission to lick into his mouth.  Graves denies it. He controls the kiss completely, holding his head in place and making Credence dizzy with the tenderness of his lips.

It’s unlike anything he’s experienced before, and it leaves him reeling.  He never would have thought that Graves could kiss so gently, could kiss him in a way that makes not just his body react, but his soul.  He’s being drawn up and made light, soothed and cared for and all the things he can never be. He thinks fleetingly that it’s the cruelest thing Graves has ever done, to make him feel like this when it will only be used to sink him even deeper into torment.

But the drop doesn’t come.  Were it Grindelwald kissing him the pleasure would have turned to pain by now, twisted back on itself until attempting to tell them apart was an errand of despair.  Credence would be sobbing, begging for whatever Grindelwald told him to beg for, and he'd be glad of it because Grindelwald told him to be glad.

But it isn't Grindelwald, so Credence just lays there and gets kissed even though it makes no sense at all.

Credence is trembling with uncertainty by the time Graves’ hands start to move, stroking down his sides and spreading his thighs apart.  Credence can't hold back a hiss when Graves’ finger finds his sore, chafed rim - he  _ knew _ the pain would come.  It just took a little longer the usual, but of course there's pain.

Graves hesitates before pressing inside.  Perhaps it's because Credence is messy with Graves’ come, he would understand that.  He knows he's disgusting after he's been used, and he wonders what Graves will find to put inside him instead.

Graves’ hand drifts upwards, brushing against his balls as he comes to grip his cock firmly, and Credence realizes his palm is wet with slick.

Credence’s breath hitches.  He isn't even allowed to touch his own dick, he's filthy and undeserving and no one wants to watch him touch himself, it would be purely selfish.

But Graves is touching him, and it isn't painful yet.  He isn't pinching him, or twisting his balls, or setting off sparks against the tender skin of his shaft the way he once had to do when he caught Credence rubbing himself against a pillow after being fucked.

No, instead Graves is gently squeezing, rubbing his thumb in circles over the head as he milks long, slow strokes up the shaft.  It’s incredible - Graves’ hand sends bursts of tingles up his spine, making heat and need pool low in his belly as his hips buck helplessly, and he doesn’t understand how the smooth glide is allowed to feel so good.

It spreads through his whole body, gentler than he has any right to expect.  He doesn’t know what to do, so he just lets it happen, feeling warm all over as his balls draw up, his dick twitches, and he comes over Graves’ hand.  The pleasure is so overwhelming that for a moment he forgets to worry about whether he was allowed, tears rolling down his cheeks while he pants, mouth open on a shuddery gasp.

It leaves him dizzy.  He opens his eyes to see Graves mutter a spell to clean his hand, and though Credence’s stomach drops to have gotten him so filthy, Graves makes no move to punish him for it.

“Thank you, sir,” Credence manages to whisper.  He doesn’t know what will happen now, tension slowly creeping back into his body and wondering when the pain will finally come.  Perhaps Graves will make him come until what used to be pleasure is pure torture, as Grindelwald did once. Credence braces himself for it.

“Did I say you could speak?” Graves snaps, but though his tone is sharp the heat is strangely absent from his voice.  Credence watches as he gets up to shower and ready himself for bed properly, staying where he was left with drops of come cooling on his belly, a strange mix of relief and dread churning in his mind.

Even when Graves comes back to bed he chooses not to torment Credence, just turning out the light and rolling to face away from him, breathing quickly growing deep and even.

Credence is left in the dark, with the horrible feeling of uncertainty curling in his gut.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [ mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com ](http://mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com/)! :)


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